Being Alone
by Zombie Kitty
Summary: Just a one chapter piece of Rimmer angst... [Rated T for... No real reason]


**Disclaimer:** I don not own anything related to Red Dwarf or anything else created by the wonderfully talented Grant Naylor!

Yes this is a new story... A new story with a crap title. (couldn't come up with aything better!) But never mind, besides, this is just a one shot so no more work to do on it! I don't really know why I wrote it... I just did.

Anyway, it's about Rimmer, as a kid, and what he's thinking and feeling one time when he goes home for the holidays...

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Being Alone**

Again and again he closed his eyes and wished he would open them to find himself to be somewhere else – but it wasn't to be. He sniffled and wiped his nose with his sleeve achieving an evil glare from the person at the wheel of the car that was trundling on, drawing ever closer to its destination.

Arnold froze as he was given "The Look" before cowering in his seat with fear.

Even school would be better than this – only by a pathetically small margin but the preference was still there.

"He gulped deeply as the familiar landscapes came into view, only a few more streets… then he'd be home for half term.

He didn't understand why he had been summoned, he was usually just left there to be forgotten about and to rot while his brothers went home and were praised and encouraged. He only ever went home for Christmas… sometimes.

As they pulled up in the drive way he realised his mother had began to address him.

"Now Arnold, your father and I have been dreadfully disappointed in you and your recent results, that is why your father has decided to give you extra teaching over the holidays – Isn't that nice of him?" His mother spoke as she reapplied her lipstick, the last part sounding more like a statement than a question.

So that was why he was home - to be force fed more astronavigation and other subjects. He didn't understand why they just couldn't accept he was never going to be officer material, he shook his head sadly, glad that he had nicked some food from the kitchens that morning – he was going to starve otherwise.

His mother opened the door and at seeing his hesitation grabbed his arm and pulled him roughly out, not caring as he tripped and fell onto the concrete.

"Be more careful – you're far too clumsy, and don't sniff – It was your own fault!" Mrs Rimmer replied unconcernedly as she brushed past her youngest son and up to the front door.

"Yes mummy." Arnold murmured, pricking back tears as he wiped the blood and the small bits of gravel from his palms onto his school trousers – he looked down at them and cringed. They were so short for him, he wondered about asking if it was ok for him to have a new pair but he knew the answers;

"_We're not made of money – you know!" "What do you think we are? – Your own personal ATM card?"_ These and many more insults and put downs filled Arnold's mind but he pushed them away with the shake of his head as he lifted his rucksack that carried all in the world that could really be classed as his, and after shutting the boot with a resounding thump, followed his mother along the path to the door.

She was opening the door as he caught up; she walked in and pushed the door too behind her, almost as if she didn't care if her son came in or not.

Arnold bit his lip as the door had stubbed his toe but said nothing. He stepped into the house and looked around the hallway – As meticulous as ever. Everything was in it's place and there was not a spot of dust to be seen.

His mother disappeared into the kitchen and Arnold looked up the stairs nervously as he wiped his feet, worried that his brothers would come charging down any minute to "play games" or that his father would come stomping down, text book and belt strap at the ready.

…But no-one appeared. He gingerly wiped his feet on the 'Welcome' mat, before taking his shoes off and placing them in the cupboard – He wanted his family to be able to find as little fault as possible with him while he was here.

He heard his mother moving around in the kitchen and then unlock the pantry door, suddenly there was a scuffling and barking sound as Toby – The family's black Labrador came hurtling out and past Arnold. He turned and tried to pet the dog but Toby growled and scrabbled at the door – As usual, no one seemed happy to see Arnold.

He sighed and walked up the stairs quietly, he passed the bathroom, his parents and Howard's rooms on the first floor and rounded the stairs up to the second floor where John and Frank's rooms were, next to another bathroom.

Arnold paused then tentatively opened the door to John's large bedroom. It was so… prefect, as if John had never been away from home for a more than a day. Arnold closed the door again and thought about how much time his mother must spend cleaning his brother's bedrooms and making sure they were perfect for when they came home in the holidays.

Arnold shrugged the thoughts away – Why should it bother him? He didn't want to be some praised freak with lots of responsibility and medals… Well he was told he did, and was punished when he didn't achieve that – But all Arnold wanted was some peace and quiet where he could sit and draw, or read a book – And not a Astrophysics text book or a biography of a Space Corps pilot, but a book, a real fiction book about pirates or aliens or the forgotten people who come out on top.

Arnold sighed and turned the key in the door before ascending the stone, uncarpeted steps up to the attic. He pulled on the dim light switch as ran his finger along the peeling helicopter wallpaper until he felt the sticky and dried mess that was where he had bashed his lemming's brains out a couple of Christmases ago.

He'd thought the lemming had been his friend… Little bastard.

Arnold sat on his bed and looked around at the dusty boxes that stored all the things his parents didn't want, but had never got round to getting rid of… Kind of summed Arnold's place in the family up rather well – A box of discarded junk in the attic.

He sighed and lay down; he wondered if he would ever enjoy being home… Or being at school for that matter… But somehow he doubted it. He also wondered if one day he'd ever be good at something, or feel like he belonged somewhere… Something else he doubted, but he would try – Arnold had decided long ago that the only thing worse than been around loads of people that hated you, was being alone…


End file.
